


A Meeting of Bodies

by budgiebum



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: F/F, Shameless Smut, Smut, selfindulgent smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:21:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28309662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/budgiebum/pseuds/budgiebum
Summary: It begins when a translucent raven flutters onto the windowsill of a room above Grommash Hold. Sylvanas casts a curious look toward the bird as it fades from existence, leaving only a small scroll in its wake. Only one person, one human, could get through Orgrimmar’s magical wards - if they didn’t already know how to bypass them according to the Warchief’s wishes.Said leader of the Horde makes her way to the window and peers out, careful to survey the grounds below for any grunts or lookouts who may have noticed the bird and decided it unusual. Her ears swivel as she listens and hearing no murmurs or suspicion, she pulls shut the window. Walking out of the bedroom portion of her chambers to an area converted into a personal study, Sylvanas sits at her desk and unfurls the tiny scroll.‘I need to meet you, please. -J’
Relationships: Jaina Proudmoore/Sylvanas Windrunner
Comments: 9
Kudos: 99





	A Meeting of Bodies

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote and posted this a couple years ago. 
> 
> Deleted it when I was in a bad headspace and someone posted a work that was extremely similar and better written.
> 
> I just wanted to post it again. Hope someone finds joy in it.

It begins when a translucent raven flutters onto the windowsill of a room above Grommash Hold. Sylvanas casts a curious look toward the bird as it fades from existence, leaving only a small scroll in its wake. Only one person, one human, could get through Orgrimmar’s magical wards - if they didn’t already know how to bypass them according to the Warchief’s wishes. 

Said leader of the Horde makes her way to the window and peers out, careful to survey the grounds below for any grunts or lookouts who may have noticed the bird and decided it unusual. Her ears swivel as she listens and hearing no murmurs or suspicion, she pulls shut the window. Walking out of the bedroom portion of her chambers to an area converted into a personal study, Sylvanas sits at her desk and unfurls the tiny scroll.

‘I need to meet you, please. -J’ 

The script is hastily scrawled, mismatching the fine quality of the paper. Another small piece of paper flutters down, freed from the confines of the rolled scroll. Runes adorn the small paper, easily identified even if she had not already known it was a gift from Jaina Proudmoore. All Sylvanas would need to do was repeat the short incantation and another raven would appear to send her message back to Jaina. Sylvanas holds the short note over a lit candle, watching as it burns to ash between her fingers. No one can know of their correspondences.

Ever since Arthas was deposed as Lich King, the two had somehow fallen into a bizarre symbiotic relationship. The women had stumbled upon each other wandering the frozen wastes around Icecrown Citadel. Sylvanas had nearly succumbed to the emptiness inside after being resurrected again and the horror of the fate that had been shown to her, while Jaina could barely process what had taken place, aimless and in shock. When their paths had crossed, neither had the true fire their fighting stances would have carried had they been well. Numb instincts decreed it was not the time to fight, and Sylvanas dropped her weapon first, sighing. Similar sounds rose from the mage as she slumped into the snow against a tree and her staff lay next to her. 

“So, how are you?” Jaina inquires bleakly, thoroughly exhausted; an attempt at civility. 

“On top of the world,” comes Sylvanas’ snide reply; she's unable to stop from rolling her eyes at Jaina. 

They had traded harmless barbs while their bodies recovered, and the rest was history.

Ages had passed, each with new tragedies springing forth, but Sylvanas and Jaina kept coming back to one another. 

Now, Sylvanas would do it once again. She quickly wrote instructions in her fine penmanship, ‘Meet at Silverpine Forest in 5 days. The place we spoke of. Wear only a cloak if you wish to have release. -S’ She enjoyed toying with Jaina at times; seeing just what the mage was willing to do for her. 

Sylvanas whispers the incantation, summoning the spectre. It gives a cross glare at her, before reluctantly gulping down the bit of parchment. A last pedantic caw of irritation is thrown at her and then it is flying out the window.

Satisfied, Sylvanas summons Nathanos, instructing him to keep things in order and ready more Horde warriors for Zuldazar while she makes a brief return to The Undercity for ‘personal matters’ - the sort about which questions would earn a swift arrow to the eye. Ever the loyal subject, he eagerly accepts, allowing Sylvanas the opportunity to focus on her respite. 

* * *

Jaina shimmers into existence amidst the tall trees of Silverpine Forest, arcane energy flickering and swirling around her a moment before it fades. The moon is high, a habit she and Sylvanas have always kept to so as to keep their meetings under cover of darkness. She begins casting illusionary wards and traps to disorient anyone who may wander into the area they’ll be playing in; discretion is their greatest requirement. None can know.

She takes a short break, enjoying a conjured snack before setting about the rest of her preparations. The note from Sylvanas flashes through her mind. ‘Wear only a cloak,’ she had said. The thought terrifies Jaina, but she cannot deny that it excites her in the same breath. First her piecemeal armor is set aside. She sets to working off her boots, and then her leggings. She stands and divests herself of her skirts and cloak, carefully set aside to put back on later. A rough breeze ghosts across her legs, sending a chill through her. It will do neither of them good if she is a hypothermic wreck, and so Jaina quickly murmurs an incantation to keep herself warm, sighing in relief as the heat gently flows through her limbs. 

Jaina tosses her top aside, leaving her clad in only her undergarments. It's but another moment before those are gone too, tossed into the pile. She takes a moment to undo her braid, fingers deftly working through the strands and freeing them to flutter around her face. Her hands rise above her head, back arching in a languid stretch. Looking down at herself, Jaina trails her fingers down her chest and across her stomach. The years of war, and time itself, had taken their toll on her body. She bites back a reflexive grimace at the scars marking her flesh; all the battles she had taken it through leaving their marks on her. 

Turning to survey her naked body one last time, Jaina lets a smile slip across her lips. No matter how she perceived those marks as imperfections, as flaws, Sylvanas has never made her feel anything but beautiful. She bends over, scooping up her cloak and securing it over her shoulders, shrouding her body from view once more and bringing shelter from the breeze.

“What a shame,” Sylvanas chuckles, emerging from the shadows. “I was so enjoying the show.” She does not bother to hide her amusement at how high Jaina still jumps when she is caught off guard. Sylvanas’s form is clear in the moonlight, the Warchief choosing the discreet option of plain clothes; adding an extra quietness that is hardly necessary for the once Ranger-General.

“Light’s sake, Sylvanas how many times must I ask you to stop doing that?” Jaina’s fist clenches her cloak shut above her heart, but her whirling around to face Sylvanas causes it to flow upward and out, revealing her from the waist down for a brief moment. 

It doesn’t escape Sylvanas, who simply smirks as she approaches. 

She reaches out, fingers catching Jaina’s freed hair to let the silver strands cascade back down against the mage’s neck. 

“I appreciate the obedience to my instructions shown thus far,” she remarks, trailing her cool fingers down Jaina’s cheek. “t’s been far too long that I’ve been forced to admire you from afar.” Sylvanas undoes the clasp of the cloak in a single skilled movement, years of practice aiding her. 

It billows past Jaina’s hips, tickling her flesh and causing her breath to catch, before piling onto the ground with a soft rustle. Jaina fidgets, shifting weight from one foot to the other; she fights to suppress almost bouncing in anticipation. Far too long, indeed. Sylvanas is immediately in her space, hands on her hips and pushing her back till she feels the bark of a massive tree dig against her skin. She gasps out of surprise, mild pain swirling together with the shock that blossoms into a moan as soft lips seal over her own. The kiss is brief, too brief, for Jaina, who whines when Sylvanas pulls away. 

Sylvanas slides her thumb across Jaina's lower lip, admiring how red they turn with the slightest pressure. She digs her nails into Jaina's hips, pulling another shuddering gasp from the pliable mage beneath her fingertips. A wolfish grin spreads across Sylvanas’s face, revealing her fangs to the moonlight. Her ears draw back in a predatory fashion. She leans forward, lightly nipping at the soft lobe of Jaina's ear. 

“Are you sure this is what you want, little mage?” 

It's a question Sylvanas has asked one hundred times, always without fail. Jaina has never said no, but the Ranger turned Warchief always sought consent, no matter who initiated the meeting. 

“Gods, Sylvanas, yes. Fuck me already,” Jaina finds herself whining and writhing under the sharp amber gaze of Sylvanas Windrunner.

Formalities out of the way, Sylvanas leaves no gap between their bodies before she fists Jaina's hair and crushes their lips together once more, swallowing the moans coming from the great hero of the Alliance. The muffled whimpers, she knows, are pleading for more. She pushes herself further against Jaina's body, molding the curves together while her hand trails up the mage's supple side. Sylvanas’ lips part Jaina's own, allowing her to sink a fang into the engorged flesh. 

Jaina pulls away, gasping for air and from pain. She wipes her chin with the back of her wrist, pulling back a small smear of blood. 

“Fuck.” Her eyes lift to catch Sylvanas’s smug gaze.

“You love it. Pain to bring pleasure, pleasure to ease your pains. Do you even know which is which, anymore?” Sylvanas chides, bringing both hands to cup Jaina's breasts. She palms and squeezes, kneading her fingers deep into the softness while pulling Jaina back into a slow, hungry kiss. Blue lips slide across pink almost apologetically, almost. 

Jaina bucks against Sylvanas, the teasing stimulation driving her on, but it is purposefully not enough to send her towards the edge. Her breath comes hot and heavy as Sylvanas moves down her jaw, kissing and sucking where it meets her throat. She whimpers, sharp fangs grazing over her pulsing artery and tender flesh, only teasing her further. 

Sylvanas’s lips seal over Jaina's pulse point as she settles her knee between Jaina's thighs. The simultaneous attacks cause the younger woman to shudder beneath her touch, clearly spiking Jaina's arousal and sending a painful ache through the mage’s core. She feels the dampness between Jaina's thighs seep through her linen pants; full hips grinding down against her leg in search of sweet friction. Jaina’s breaths become more labored under her touch as Sylvanas sucks and nips a trail of bruises down her collar and to her chest. 

She takes an angry, rouge peak between her chilled lips, sucking the nipple and lavishing it sweetly with her tongue. Oh, the things Sylvanas can do with her tongue - things Jaina is acutely aware of. Sylvanas pinches Jaina's other pebbled bud between her fingers, tugging it to the limit of flesh and releasing, relishing the way it bounces the breast back into place out of the corner of her eye. 

She can hear Jaina's heart beating rapidly inside her chest, intermingled with the sweet whines and moans creating a symphony in time to the beat Jaina's hips are setting. With every new touch to Jaina's breasts, the keens from the mage rise higher. It intrigues Sylvanas as it always does, causing her long elven ears to twitch in fascination. She knows Jaina is getting close, the rutting against her invasive thigh a dead giveaway, and pulls her knee back.

Jaina clings to Sylvanas’s muscled shoulders, using the leverage to rut more deeply against her thigh as the banshee moves away. Her clit becomes overly sensitive, the roughness of Sylvanas’s pants becoming more apparent through her lust. It’s not enough to push Jaina over the edge. 

“Syl- Sylvanas please,” Jaina begs, hips stuttering against Sylvanas with every roll and bite of her nipples, “by The Light, I need you inside me.” She watches as the Warchief releases Jaina’s abused bud with a wet pop, ashen blue tongue sliding out across her lips. 

“Come now, I know humans have more stamina than that.” She pulls her knee completely free, far enough to steal all relief it granted, and smirks in pleased satisfaction when Jaina emits a soft whine at the loss of contact. “Let’s have a feel of how badly you need it.” 

Cold fingers glide along Jaina’s wetness, ghosting her aching bundle of nerves. Jaina throws her arms fully around Sylvanas’ neck, resting her flushed face against the Warchief’s deathly pallid skin. Soft groans rumble in her throat while Sylvanas takes her time exploring her fully. 

Sylvanas knows Jaina’s sex as well as she does a map of the Undercity, but Jaina knows teasing her, even tormenting her, is Sylvanas’s own particular pleasure. She bites into Sylvanas’s neck with abandon, knowing it won’t hurt her lover. Still those damnable fingers fondle her folds, teasing at her entrance before dancing away and instead giving featherlight touches to her clit. Jaina knows she must look like a wild beast, panting and groaning against Sylvanas’s skin while she presses with her hips to find more purchase in the touch. 

Sylvanas chuckles against Jaina’s throat, reveling in just how desperate the woman beneath her is at her teasing. She relents, sinking two fingers down to the second knuckle into Jaina’s sex. The slick muscles pulsate around her digits, beckoning her in further, but Sylvanas doesn’t accept. Instead, she deepens a bruise on the side of Jaina’s neck while edging her fingers out of Jaina’s sex and slowly sliding them back in. She feels Jaina’s breath becoming even more labored and erratic, whimpered pleas falling from her swollen lips.

Coherent thought flees Jaina completely, mind frayed from being held on the edge after having gone so long without the touch of another. Hardships and heartaches, not to mention the Legion invasion, had kept them apart for too long. She had not lied when she said she needed Sylvanas. Jaina bites harder and drives her fingernails into Sylvana’s back through her cloak and shirt, trying to send a message she can’t vocalize. 

Sylvanas feels the dull ache of Jaina’s teeth sinking into cords of her neck. She ceases her nipping at Jaina’s neck, laving the bruises she leaves behind. In an act of mercy, as merciful as Sylvanas Windrunner can be, she gathers the abundant wetness to coat three of her fingers. They meet little resistance as she finally fills Jaina, ear twitching back way from the source as the poor mage screams out uninhibited. 

Jaina’s body burns as her walls stretch to accommodate Sylvanas’ attack. They do not move, not even a quiver; they sit inside Jaina still as stone. She moans in frustration, confused as she’s pulled forward off the tree. The cloak Sylvanas wears wraps around her, shielding her body from the tree as she’s settled back against it, digits inside her still unmoving. 

“Ride me if you wish to find release tonight.” Sylvanas runs her thumb in a light circle around Jaina’s clit, savoring how the mage’s walls clench tightly enough for her to feel. “That is all you will get from me at this moment, now ride.” 

Luckily for Jaina, her body understands Sylvanas’ words and responds. She wraps a leg around Sylvana’s hip for balance, stammering out a curse as the shift changes the angle of the fingers inside of her. The cloak around her shields her body from the bark, bringing comfort to her movements as she begins to ride Sylvanas. Sparks fly behind her closed eyes with every thrust, electric pleasure coursing through her veins now that her needs are being sated. It takes but a few passes to send her back to the edge, hoarsely panting her love’s name in a chant. 

“Yes, yes” Jaina’s hips crash against Sylvanas’ as she chases her orgasm, searching for the release that’s escaped her for too long. “Sylvanas, oh Gods!” Every nerve in her body feels as if it’s on fire, her muscles aching from the exertion, hair clinging to her sweat soaked neck. Her back arches, shifting her hips again and dragging Sylvanas’ fingers across the special spot in her front wall that makes her see flashes of light.

Jaina’s release rips through her; a scream of pleasure to rival the Banshee Queen who’s arm she’s cradled in sounds from her. Her walls spasm around Sylvanas, pushing against the undead elf’s fingers still inside. Body convulsing, she bites into Sylvanas’ shoulders to muffle her sobbing moans as her essence splashes across Sylvanas’ wrist and legs, wetting the ground beneath them. 

Sylvanas pets Jaina’s damp hair, glancing down between them. “My my, ‘Daughter of the Sea’ indeed.” She ponders for a moment, amused by the wet mess below them, while Jaina catches her breath. A thought occurs to her and she gives her fingers an experimental wiggle. Jaina replies with another deep moan into her shoulder. “I wonder, dear one, just what I can get from you tonight.” A gasp comes from the mage, but no protest; Sylvanas slowly removes herself from inside Jaina and gently massages the younger woman’s clit again. “How does that feel?” Jaina can only slur out a moaned assent to the touch, her body writhing again. 

“Hmm. I’ll stop at your word, but not a moment sooner,” Sylvanas states, cradling Jaina’s cheek in her free hand. Jaina pulls her head back and nods once before letting it fall against the tree still behind her. With the agreement mutual, Sylvanas runs her fingers through Jaina's silver hair while stimulating the mage's clit back to firmness. She grins, the sodden wet sound from between Jaina's thighs becoming louder as her fingers pick up the pace, painting tighter circles around Jaina's straining bundle of nerves. 

Jaina's hips twitch and shudder with each pass over her tender clit, sending her heart racing impossibly higher. She releases Sylvanas and clings to the tree through the cloak, fingers finding the grooves in the bark as she's pushed to another orgasm. Her sensitive nerves scream out again and Jaina's legs give under the sheer power of her second climax. Rivulets of release trail down her thighs as her body shakes against Sylvanas. 

The Warchief abandons Jaina's oversensitive pearl to enter her with two fingers again. “That's right, come for me, Jaina. I know you're stronger than this.” her fingers search out the puffy ridge inside Jaina once more. Sylvanas feels her fingertips catch and begins her assault anew, divining her digits into the sensitive spot. Jaina quivers in her arms, moaning the Dark Lady's name again and again into her shoulder, screaming out a sob as the third orgasm is pulled from her. Sylvanas slows, waiting for Jaina to day something. When her fingers slide through the mage's slit, nudging her clit one last time, she finally cries out. 

“Enough! Please I can't-”, she cuts herself off with a groan as she fully collapses into Sylvanas’ arms, completely exhausted and dazed. Jaina's body radiates a pleased exhaustion, every muscle warm from not only her spell, but the strenuous activity she had been engaged in. Her eyes flutter closed, mind barely registering the cloak snuggly wrapping around her. 

Sylvanas hums quietly to herself as Jaina naps in her arms. Being with the archmage like this made her feel fleeting moments of peace, something taken from her long ago. Peace, intrigue, and vexation at how Jaina could still look at her after everything she had done as warchief. Though she supposed she still wasn't the second or even third most hated warchief, or leader abhorred by the betrayed younger woman. Sylvanas found sick amusement that both their lives had been irreparably damaged by the same ruthless prince, yet Jaina was on the receiving end of near endless new torment every time either woman turned around. 

Shame briefly grips Sylvanas as she remembers her inability to stop Garrosh Hellscream, or warn Jaina of what was to come. 

The smaller woman stirs in her arms, blue eyes laced with arcane magics gazing up into red ones brimming with darkness. 

“Theramore wasn't your fault.”

“And when, Lord Admiral, did you begin to dabble in mind reading?” Sylvanas loosened her grip when Jaina made to shift in her lap, now straddling her. 

“You always have the same far off scowl when thinking about it.” Jaina yawned and stretched out the arm she could, nothing the soreness of her back from making love against the trees. She begins to murmur a small healing spell, but soft, cold lips stop her. A small vial is pushed into her hand. 

“I insist you take this, since your injuries, however minor, are my fault.”

“But-”

“I insist, My Lady.” 

Sylvanas’ gaze pierces Jaina; she acquiesces and drinks the potion. The tingling sensation of the potions magic reversing all her wounds caused her body to quiver. She would never get used to that. Jaina sat up straighter in Sylvanas lap as fingertips trail down her back, cringing when they catch in the sticky sap. “I think we should take a dip in the lake, maybe give your pants a chance to dry,” she suggests, fresh blush dusting her cheeks. 

Jaina quickly splashes into the water, with a divested Sylvanas on her heels. The two languidly swim around the lake, letting the water cleanse their skin of the sweat and grime collected. They float in peace, enjoying the companionable silence while they can. After long, they swim ashore, Jaina casting a quick spell to leave them completely free of moisture. 

“You couldhave just done that for my clothing, you know,” Sylvanas grumbles, brow arched, reaching for her things. 

“This was more fun,” Jaina laughs, tugging her leggings up her legs. “Tonight was wonderful. Thank you for responding.”

“You know I cannot always.”

“I know. Conflict is constant and our responsibilities many, so again I say thank you.” Jaina conjures a portal to her sleeping quarters back in Boralus. “I do hope we can meet again soon.” With a quiver in the air, Jaina disappears through her portal and it diminishes. 

Sylvanas affixes her cloak and melds back into the shadows. “Maybe,” she whispers, “once our conflicts at sea cease.”


End file.
